


kiss the ring and kneel at the throne

by heartseekers



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, M/M, Reverence, god seungwoo, knight seungyoun, porn with a tiny bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25955842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartseekers/pseuds/heartseekers
Summary: It’s all too easy to fall to his knees again, hair brushing Seungwoo’s pale robes. He hopes Seungwoo will forgive his insolence in favor of accepting his oblation, and that he won’t find it too impudent.There’s not much you can offer to a god that has it all, but Seungyoun is willing to try anyway.
Relationships: Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Han Seungwoo
Comments: 26
Kudos: 73
Collections: Different Pools Fic Fest





	kiss the ring and kneel at the throne

**Author's Note:**

> > 124\. Seungyoun as a knight who is lauded as one of the greatest knights in all the land. But he has a secret, a good luck charm.
> 
> my submission for the different pools fic fest! i played around with and strayed from the concept of a good luck charm, but i hope it's an enjoyable read nonetheless! title taken from rival sons' "sugar on the bone." 

Seungyoun enters the pantheon with his helmet tucked under his arm, head bowed and eyes on the floor. Sometimes Seungwoo wants him in robes mirroring his own, pastel colors that mimic sunlight dappled through stained glass; other times, he prefers Seungyoun in his ceremonial dress, deep red velvet sash and golden epaulets on a canvas of pure white. Today, it’s the latter that Seungyoun finds himself wearing, the attire chosen by Seungwoo. He never seems to stray from the variant that hangs unused in Seungyoun’s wardrobe, despite his immense power over this realm; he could have Seungyoun turned into a donkey with a flick of his fingers and yet he chooses to dress him in ceremonial garb.

He spots Seungwoo’s slender figure by one of the inner columns. The loose sleeves of his robes flutter in the imperceptible breeze that stirs the air here, and Seungwoo appears to be deep in thought. Once he reaches him, Seungyoun drops to his knees in reverence.

“They will be singing your praises for many months to come, knight.” Seungwoo’s voice is neither deep nor booming, but it shakes Seungyoun to the core nonetheless. “You were victorious again.”

Seungyoun snorts where he’s still kneeling, waiting for Seungwoo’s touch his shoulder to indicate that he can rise to his feet again. “It is to be expected when one has your favor,” he says, thinking of their last encounter in the pantheon, his offering to Seungwoo so they could do well in battle. The slash across his palm healed without a scar. Few of the things that happen here seem to carry over in Seungyoun’s world—Seungwoo’s own touch, once turned rough, means Seungyoun will sport the marks for weeks to come—but he suspects it’s all subject to Seungwoo’s will anyway. 

Seungwoo trails his fingers down the slope of Seungyoun’s shoulder, so he gets up. It’s never not going to make him feel dizzy, standing face to face with a god, staring Seungwoo in the eye. Their heights align perfectly and Seungwoo doesn’t move when their noses are inches apart, when Seungyoun is privy to the storms whirling in his irises, breathing the same air as a god for a few long seconds.

“What brings you back so soon?” Seungwoo asks as he steps away from Seungyoun. He clasps his hands behind his back as he looks into the void surrounding his pantheon, the gesture oddly human. “The kingdom will be at peace for the next season, knight.” He sounds intrigued, as if he can’t possibly know the reason for Seungyoun’s visit. 

Seungyoun steels himself, clutching his helmet for comfort, fingers digging into the cushioned inside nervously; Seungwoo is hard to read, in the way that all gods are. Not fickle, which Seungyoun feared when he first came to ask for Seungwoo’s favor. But getting close to him didn’t grant Seungyoun the power to read his moods, and he’s often left in the dark about what goes on in Seungwoo’s mind. This is no exception.

His helmet rolls out from under his arm, a dull sound when it falls to the marble slabs making up the floor in Seungwoo’s pantheon. Seungwoo looks back at him, face a carefully constructed puzzle that Seungyoun can’t see through. Still, he takes a deep breath and opens his mouth. “Gratitude. Reverence.” Seungyoun’s eyes are trained on the fluttering hem of Seungwoo’s robe, heart beating wildly in his chest. “A chance to give back.” 

Seungwoo approaches on silent feet, crowding into Seungyoun’s space. “You banished your foes to the ends of the earth and brought down empires, all in my name. You’ve more than held up your end, Seungyoun.” They’re so close Seungyoun can make out all the little nevi scattered across his cheek, spelling out a distant constellation he can’t name. Looking at Seungwoo is like standing in the eye of a storm; an apparent calm bordered by something beyond his understanding, keeping Seungyoun moving so he won’t be swept up by the winds.

It’s all too easy to fall to his knees again, hair brushing Seungwoo’s pale robes. He hopes Seungwoo will forgive his insolence in favor of accepting his oblation, and that he won’t find it too impudent. There’s not much you can offer to a god that has it all, but Seungyoun is willing to try anyway. 

He finds Seungwoo’s palm between the folds of his sleeve and grabs at it to bring his knuckles up to his mouth. “Esteemed one.” He presses a kiss to the back of his hand. “Revered one.” Another, his lips brushing the knob of his wrist, pushing the loose sleeve up around his elbow to keep it out of the way. ”My god,” turning Seungwoo’s hand palm up, leaving a kiss on the inside of his forearm. Seungyoun can’t feel his pulse.

Seungwoo’s long fingers curl, touching Seungyoun’s neck right where he’s ticklish. He resists squirming, eyes turned skywards as his lips hover above Seungwoo’s skin, hand still holding onto his. 

“What makes this different from your other offerings, knight?” It’s clear that he wants Seungyoun to keep talking. 

In truth, it embarrasses him a little to speak. All his other visits to Seungwoo were for the good of the kingdom and their people, and while this isn’t for Seungyoun’s own benefit either it still makes him nervous to present the idea to the god. 

“A gift, if you’ll have it,” he says, really means _if you’ll have me_ , swallows and hopes that Seungwoo understands; his cheeks are aflame already, body trembling under his heavy overcoat. 

Seungyoun’s stomach roils when Seungwoo whisks them to the altar deeper inside the pantheon. The stone is rough beneath his palms and his nose stings with the scent of spent lightning once the room settles into normalcy around him, reminding Seungyoun that Seungwoo holds all the power here. But thinking of himself as his unfortunate subject only serves to make Seungyoun shiver again. 

Seungwoo stands up to his full height above him. It’s not as intimidating as it could be, not when his features are relaxed and his arms are slack at his sides. However, the look in his eyes is calculating, sharper than the general aloof air he’s aiming for; Seungyoun isn’t fooled in the slightest. He expects Seungwoo to open his mouth, but he can’t predict what he’s going to say next.

“Make your offer, Seungyoun.” Fingers brush down the red slash of his sash, curling under it to tug it down and then they’re off of Seungyoun’s body, as if he never touched him at all. Seungyoun swallows audibly, unsure of how to proceed. Seungwoo’s back to staring at him impassively, hovering right above him. 

Tentatively, he opens his jacket. He fumbles with the gold buttons until it hangs loose around his chest. It feels awkward to do it while Seungwoo scrutinizes him but he manages, letting the brocade pool around his hips and slip to the floor. Seungyoun has half a mind to follow its path, slide down onto his knees in front of Seungwoo, sandwiched between his legs and the altar. It would be fitting, he thinks.

He fingers the tiny buttons holding his shirt closed, not popping them out of their holes yet. His eyes search Seungwoo’s, not knowing what he’s looking for—confirmation that he’s not going too far, that he’s not mocking Seungwoo by doing this; a nod of encouragement or his arm reaching out to stop him.

Surprisingly, he does reach out. Seungwoo stills Seungyoun’s hands where they’re trying to work his shirt undone and the touch shocks him, cool and impersonal as ever. 

“It’s only fair that I get to do this.” Seungyoun wants to laugh at the solemn way he says it, nerves bubbling up in his chest. The cotton falls open as if it was cut through when Seungwoo glides the back of his knuckles down the row of buttons at the front, stopping at his waistband. He unfastens Seungyoun’s breeches and cups the outline of his cock through his undergarments shamelessly, covering it with his large palm. 

Seungyoun is breathless. Has been since the cool air of the pantheon hit his bare chest, looking down in confusion at his lack of an undershirt. Seungwoo’s lips curl up at the corners when their eyes meet again and he thinks he might be the reason for that.

Seungwoo worms his hand into Seungyoun’s underpants. “So vulgar,” he muses out loud when he pulls Seungyoun’s cock from its confines, but his tone is amused and he’s still grasping him in the loose circle of his fingers. Seungyoun looks down, and he has to agree; his cock is soft, spilling over Seungwoo’s knuckles inelegantly. He almost bites through his tongue when Seungwoo brings his hand up to his mouth and licks the pads of his fingers, makes a surprised sound when he thinks better of it and dips them into the ornate oil pot behind them. The light catches his palm as he turns it around and Seungyoun sees that it’s slick all the way down to his wrist, light sandalwood scent pricking Seungyoun’s nose.

The first touch to his cock is electrifying. Seungyoun makes a noise in the back of his throat that doesn’t sound like him at all, and he tries to push his thighs wider apart. Seungwoo drags his breeches down with his clean hand, somehow manages to make his boots and socks slip off as well and suddenly Seungyoun’s bare from the waist down, exposed.

All the tiny hairs on his thighs stand up, cock stirring in Seungwoo’s grip. He takes that as a good sign, tightens his hold on Seungyoun’s shaft and strokes him purposefully, leans down to peer at him. It’s overwhelming, having Seungwoo’s attention focused on him like that, like he wouldn’t see his hand wrapped around him if he were to glance between their bodies. Just the thought of having a god touch him like that serves to make Seungyoun throw his head back, baring the column of his neck to Seungwoo’s hungry gaze.

Seungwoo works him up with his fingers curled securely around his shaft, gentle pressure and slick noises. It’s better than when Seungyoun does it alone in his quarters, no matter how much oil he pours into his palm before he starts or how well-timed the squeezes under his head are. It’s electrifying and he sneaks a glance up at Seungwoo from under his lashes, heart stuttering in his chest when he notices him watching the pass of his hand over his cock with ravenous intent. 

He grows harder as Seungwoo keeps up his pace, sweat beading at his temples. His shirt sticks to his back uncomfortably and Seungyoun shakes it off his shoulders, letting it gather into the crook of his arms. The movement makes Seungwoo look up, mouth parting as he takes in Seungyoun’s appearance. There’s no words exchanged between them but Seungyoun sees Seungwoo grab the oil again, slicking his clean fingers with it.

Moments later, there’s wet digits nudging behind his balls, legs closing instinctively at the touch over that intimate place. Seungwoo lathers his entrance with the oil, bumps his knuckles inside while Seungyoun chokes on his breath and makes tiny needy sounds, pushing his hips up blindly. 

“May I?” Seungwoo barely finishes asking before Seungyoun nods, a guttural noise sticking in his throat. He’s careful when he pushes his finger in, just one at first, to let Seungyoun get used to the stretch. Seungwoo’s fingers are long and elegant and slim, something Seungyoun’s grateful for. It slides in and out of him, pushing gently at Seungyoun’s walls, knuckle catching on his rim when Seungwoo hurries to add another alongside the one halfway inside of Seungyoun. They’re rushing but Seungyoun doesn’t care, wants to feel Seungwoo stretching him open if he’s only going to get his fingers, a sweet twinge in every step he takes.

His mouth hangs open as Seungwoo crooks his digits inside him, spreads them apart and skims over his sweet spot almost cruelly. They’re nearly nose to nose now, breaths mingling as Seungwoo begins to stroke his cock again, adding to the pleasure overtaking Seungyoun. He longs to kiss Seungwoo but he doesn’t want to be the one to initiate it, doesn’t want to be greedy. Seungwoo’s always been content with taking what he wants from Seungyoun, and he would’ve done it already if it was something he wanted, he thinks. Still, it doesn’t stop his heart from beating loudly in his throat, the possibility dangling so close in front of him.

Their cheeks touch, Seungwoo’s cool one to Seungyoun’s heated flesh. It makes Seungyoun shudder, muscles tightening everywhere, slowing Seungwoo’s movements as a consequence.

“I will have you over my altar,” he says, almost hisses into Seungyoun’s ear as if he’s the one with a hand around his cock and fingers stuffing him full. He makes it sound like a certainty, like he _will_ make it happen and Seungyoun’s never heard him sound so raw before. Part of him thinks he should be afraid, especially with how much power Seungwoo possesses, but he shakes like a leaf in his arms and drools more precum over Seungwoo’s fingers instead, head spinning.

_Do it, do it, do it_. “Do it,” he gasps out. It’s the first thing Seungyoun’s said since this started, and the words just slip out after looping through his mind. The fingers inside him pause, and Seungyoun bites his lip as Seungwoo trembles, as he pulls back until they’re face to face.

“Again.” He’s not angry or disgusted at Seungyoun’s greediness. The air in Seungyoun’s lungs expands until he can’t breathe in anymore, and he doesn’t know how he manages to find his voice to respond to Seungwoo.

“Do it.” 

Seungwoo forgets to be gentle when he pushes Seungyoun over the altar again, scraping his knee against the stone when he lifts it up onto it, keeping his other leg straight under him. They’re lucky the altar comes up to the right height for this, and Seungyoun wonders if it was Seungwoo’s doing all along. His spine tingles at the thought.

The stretch makes him dizzy when Seungwoo fits his cockhead to his hole and pushes in, even with the oil he’s poured over himself to make the slide into Seungyoun smoother. He crams his cock into him until his hips are flush with Seungyoun’s ass and he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, sharp hipbones digging into bare skin. Seungwoo’s hands are clawed into his hips while his back is bowed above him and Seungyoun revels in the knowledge that he’s enough to make Seungwoo lose his composure, forget that his touch will be burnt into his very bones after this; a reminder he’ll carry with him forever. 

When Seungwoo starts moving, breath shuddering right into Seungyoun’s ear, Seungyoun’s world narrows down to a point. The drag inside him is slow, tight, just the right side of gritty for him to enjoy. His knees grow weak and he lays his chest to the stone, closes his eyes and bites his lip against the sounds that threaten to spill out. Under him, his cock is dripping steadily even without Seungwoo touching him, precum stretching in thin strands between his tip and the altar. He shouts when Seungwoo worms his arm under his body and takes him in his hand, fingers gripping the stone ledge.

It’s picking up right where they left off when Seungwoo had just his fingers buried into Seungyoun’s ass but more intense, fire licking at Seungyoun’s spine with every push into him. His mind grows numb and he almost misses the light grunts coming from above him, Seungwoo’s voice gruff and alien like this.

They fall into a rhythm after that. Seungyoun does his best to keep quiet and listen to Seungwoo, tries to ignore how good his hand feels around him, how easily he accepts Seungwoo inside him. Whenever his cockhead skids past his prostate he buckles up like a wild animal, entire body feeling like an exposed nerve.

Seungyoun doesn’t realize when he’s about to cum. He just knows his thighs are burning where he’s been working to meet Seungwoo’s thrusts, spine arched and shoulders pressed to the stone under him until his bones creak; but he can feel it behind his balls, a tiny spark that loosens his muscles and makes them clench all the same, curling towards the pit of his stomach. Seungyoun barely manages to pry his own jaw open and speak, but the sounds he makes are garbled, unintelligible.

Seungwoo seems to sense this, moves his hand to squeeze his balls briefly and angles his hips differently. “Will you come for me, Seungyoun?” He sounds winded as well but his voice is still sweet, like honey drizzled into old wine. Seungyoun keens instead of answering him and then does his best to stop the high, reedy noise; grabs at his hair, bites into his forearm and secretly wishes it were Seungwoo’s shoulder instead, pushes himself back on Seungwoo’s cock. He still shouts when he cums, spills over Seungwoo’s fingers and clenches tight around him, white noise so loud in his ears he fails to hear the choked-off sound coming from behind him. He thinks he sees light even when he closes his eyelids, and honestly doesn’t feel Seungwoo pulling out of him.

His body slumps over the altar, tired and completely boneless. It takes him a moment to stop feeling like he’s floating, suddenly remembering the way his thighs were stretched over the unforgiving stone, wincing when he slowly brings his legs together. Pins and needles shoot up his calf immediately, making him yelp. There’s something sticky dripping down his thigh and he still finds it in himself to blush, tries to find the best way to face Seungwoo now. 

Turning around is an ordeal, but Seungyoun has to do it. He swallows his pride and hops up onto the altar, hopes Seungwoo won’t find it disrespectful, not after what they’ve just done. His feet dangle above the ground and he stares at them for a moment before turning to look at Seungwoo, eyeing his rumpled robes. 

Seungyoun’s throat is shot when he speaks. “Will you send me away now?” He tries for a grin but it falls just a bit short, feels off and awkward on his lips. His shirttails are long enough to cover his crotch but he’d rather have the rest of his clothes back. He doesn’t think he can pick them up without falling to the floor in the process.

Seungwoo approaches him cautiously, steps light and unsure. He cups Seungyoun’s cheek and his hand is clean, somehow, and warm. He strokes the flushed skin with his thumb and touches the corner of Seungyoun’s mouth, swipes it just under his bitten bottom lip. His lips come down and they touch Seungyoun’s forehead.

“I am not as unkind as to throw you out, Seungyoun.” His other hand touches Seungyoun’s knee, light enough that he could shake it off if he wanted to; breathes shakily, closing his eyes and turning his head up; he doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading through this piece! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!
> 
> my commissions are open! and as always, you can find me on 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/deaconkink)   
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